


As Seen Through a Fog

by Muccamukk



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Haldane and Jones Don't Die, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Head Injury, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunion Sex, Scars, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: The first thing Andy does when he gets back to the US is make sure Eddie comes up to Massachusetts. He only wishes the rest of it were that simple.
Relationships: Andrew A. "Ack-Ack" Haldane/Edward "Hillbilly" Jones
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59
Collections: Spicy Advent - Multi-fandom Porn Advent Calendar 2019





	As Seen Through a Fog

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spicy advent, for the prompt "I'm invisible." I feel like I've wandered both off brief for the fest AND off prompt, but hey, it's my first time writing this pairing, new fic!
> 
> Thank you to Thrillingdetectivetales for beta reading.

The last time Andy had seen Eddie, the corpsmen had been hauling his motionless body down out of the coral hills of Peleliu. Andy had stared after them even after the stretcher had rounded the corner, unable to believe that he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye, that he might never get to kiss him again, that Eddie had gotten wounded under his command.

That had been almost four months ago. Now, Eddie dropped heavily into the back seat next to Andy and flipped his collar up to cover the back of his neck against the freezing fog.

"Heck of day for a parade, sir," Eddie said, sounding like not a day had passed between them. Andy wished he knew if that was a good sign or not.

Andy couldn't kiss him then, either. Both because half the population of Methuen, Massachusetts, was looking on, and because Andy hadn't the least idea whether that kind of attention would still be welcome in peacetime. Well, he had some idea. Eddie had, after all, just crossed three states to get to him, on two days' notice at that.

Andy reached across the empty seat between them and held out his hand. The cadet driving the car was looking back, openly curious where a more seasoned marine would have known to show discretion. It was the only reason that Andy didn't pull his glove off with his teeth and try to touch Eddie skin to skin.

"I'm sorry I couldn't meet your train, Lieutenant," Andy said, both meaning the words sincerely and hating how stiff and formal they sounded. He really wanted to apologise for so many things, not just missing a train he'd promised to meet.

Eddie smiled lop-sidedly and took Andy's hand. His grip was firm and welcoming as it always had been. "That's all right, sir, looks like you have a thing or two going on here."

None of them were that important, Andy wanted to say, but the boy driving told them they were going to be late, and started the car before Andy could say anything about it. The Major Domo raised his baton, and the marching band kicked off with "Stars and Stripes Forever."

Andy winced at all the noise, his ears starting to ring already, and muttered, "I didn't plan this."

Eddie had let go of his hand and was sitting stiff and straight in the back of the open-topped car, looking every inch the decorated marine in pristine dress blues. His lips moved, but Andy couldn't hear what he said over the noise.

The little procession—the band, their car, the mayor's car, Andy's family's car, the cadets marching behind—rounded the corner onto Methune's short main street.

The people lining it started cheering, and Andy wanted to do nothing more than sink down into his seat far enough to disappear. He wished that he could curl in on himself with his arms over his ears, try to protect his head and neck as if his position were being shelled. He wished he could reach across the seat and take Eddie's hand again. Instead he sat straight and smiled and waved, and felt grateful that at least they weren't asking him to sell war bonds. Yet.

Andy felt disloyal the moment he thought that. He couldn't be on the front with his boys any more. If the Marine Corps wanted him to go on a morale tour, he should leap at the chance to be of any use. It was just that the idea of more parades, or people cheering him, when...

It was better when he didn't think about it. Andy wished that they'd stop cheering. He recognised so many of the faces lining the road. They'd come out to his games and screamed his name as his teammates carried him off the field on their shoulders, but that had been for something he'd actually done, for leading his team to victory or for the number of yards he'd run. This seemed to be because Andy'd had the ability to not die after getting shot in the head. Andy had lived, and been sent home, therefore he was a hero.

Rolling through town at the speed of a marching band, Andy looked past the crowd to streets he'd known through his whole life. He'd run here as a kid, marched here as a cadet, walked with a girl on his arm right before he'd shipped out. That had been three years ago, almost four. Andy realised he didn't remember the girl's name. Someone his mother had set him up with.

He couldn't look at Eddie. Andy kept his eyes on his side of the road and made his face still and placid as the band switched to "Battle Hymn of the Republic." One of the cymbals wasn't perfectly in time, and the half second clash was making Andy's skin itch. He could feel his left leg starting to bounce and smoothed his hand over his knee. It settled his leg down, but didn't do much for the aching in his head.

By the time the band swung into the “Marine Corps Hymn,” Andy was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Even with the fog darkening noon to evening, Andy kept blinking against the brightness. He should have worn his shaded glasses, but he wasn't used to remembering them yet. They were just about at City Hall at least, and that would be the end of the ride, if not the brass band. Andy gritted his teeth and told himself that if he could get through three campaigns, he could survive a damn parade. He'd fought off that last Banzai attack on Gloucester with his forearm gashed nearly to the bone.

Christ, but his head hurt. Pain shot through his temples and spread like fragmentary grenades through his skull. The driver braked a little too hard, jolting Andy forward and he had to close his eyes, just for a second.

Eddie's hand closed down over his wrist, squeezing tight. The cadet was saying something, but all Andy could hear was the racing heartbeat thundering inside his skull. He opened his eyes and glanced sideways. Good God, Andy had forgotten how blue Eddie's eyes were. He didn't know how he could have forgotten that, of all things? Eddie lifted his chin slightly, just barely raising his eyebrows, and Andy dipped his head in a nod. An exchange as old as their service together: _All right? All right._

The cadet came around and held the door open for Andy, and he had to drag his eyes away from Eddie and turn to face the podium. The mayor was already waiting, with Andy's family beside him. They were beaming. They looked so proud of him.

Andy got out of the car and checked to make sure his dress blues were in order and his cover was set right. He walked towards the podium in a steady, even stride, sensing rather than feeling Eddie falling into his old place half a step behind him. Andy had thought, once, that he could take on the entire Japanese empire with Eddie as his left hand.

They stood at attention next to the mayor, and Andy meant to listen to his introduction, but his eyes kept drifting down the street, finding familiar faces, searching for ones he knew wouldn't be there. If this were Pavuvu, he'd be seeing Burgin and Shelton with the weapons, Gunny pacing the lines. Andy would be seeing... If he were on Pavuvu, it'd be warmer than this.

The band started up again, "The Star Spangled Banner." Andy put his hand over his heart, his body moving out of habit.

Behind him, Eddie's voice rose high and clear, singing like he believed in the words. He'd always had that way with music: the ability to convince the hearer that the lyrics were true. Andy's own voice cracked and croaked like it always did, worn thin by too many orders screamed over artillery. He'd never known how Eddie did it.

"And now, Captain Haldane has agreed to say a few words."

Had he? He must have. Andy stepped forward towards the mic, and Eddie came up behind him like he was pulled by a string. Andy cleared his throat, staring out over a street filled with upturned, expectant faces, filled with cadets in uniform, with the band in its brilliant colours. At his left, Andy knew Eddie stood tall and proud in his dress blues, like Andy hadn't seen him since Australia.

Later, at the reception, Andy didn't remember what he'd said. He might have even asked them all to buy war bonds. He probably had.

He still hadn't properly looked at Eddie yet. It was hard when the man persisted in hovering just behind Andy's left elbow. And people kept wanting to shake Andy's hand, and sometimes Eddie's too. They all said they knew Andy or his folks, or remembered him, or had seen him play. They'd all been praying that he'd come home, like he was their own son. They all rejoiced at the city's golden child returning, almost unblemished, such a little scar really, a miracle, a blessing, a herald of coming victory.

Andy was starting to understand that when they looked at him, they didn't see Andrew A. Haldane, they saw a hope of their own sons. Or they saw a ghost of them, anyhow. Andy kept smiling, kept shaking hands. At least the brass band wasn't allowed inside the reception, though the rise and fall of voices coiled in on him. Andy could feel his hackles rising, and he made himself look straight ahead, not keep his head on the swivel for an attack.

He didn't realise that he was drumming the gloved fingers of his left hand against the hilt of his dress sword until Eddie closed his hand over Andy's.

Finally, Andy glanced back, taking in what he'd been afraid to see before: Eddie standing tall, leaner than ever, but still breathing, his skin pink from the warmth of the room, his curls tamed smooth with pomade. Andy let his eyes run down Eddie's body, like he could see through the crisp blue wool to the scarred flesh beneath. He'd been seeing that last glimpse from Peleliu for months now, couldn't seem to stop seeing it even now that the real man was standing in front of him, apparently hale and whole.

Eddie caught him looking and smiled, not a proper grin but the little curl at the corner of his mouth that crinkled his eyes and made Andy feel like someone had punched him in the chest.

Unable to keep himself from it any more, Andy reached out and took a hold of Eddie's shoulder and smiled back. "I'm sorry I didn't pick you up at the train," he said.

For some reason that made Eddie frown and flick his gaze up. "Already said that was okay by me," Eddie answered.

"Oh, right," Andy muttered. That did seem familiar. He'd been trying to get better about remembering things. Trying not to worry everyone so much. "Damn."

Eddie picked up his mood, just like always. He lifted his hand and squeezed Andy's where he was still holding Eddie's shoulder. "That's okay, too, Skip," he said, and smiled again, though Andy could see a tense edge to it now.

Andy glanced around to see if anyone else had caught his latest slip, but if they had, they didn't seem to have recognised it for what it was. Eddie had though. "Damn," Andy said again, his lips shaping the word more than saying it aloud.

"Andy," Eddie said, horribly cautious now. It was the first time Andy had heard his Christian name on Eddie's lips since—he tried to remember, he must be able to remember _that_ , it was new things that were the problem—they'd shared a foxhole after the airfield, no, it was later, after he'd left Eddie in charge, and the dog handler'd had that awful nightmare.

It had been too long. Andy couldn't stand how long it had been. He tightened his grip on Eddie's shoulder and said with a sudden intensity, "I can't be here any more."

"Okay," Eddie said. "We'll go."

They didn't work out how or to where until they were already out the door. Andy thought Eddie must have said something to his sister, hoped he had. He knew as he was going that he shouldn't be fleeing a party in his honour, but he couldn't stand the idea of all those people looking at him and seeing something else. Though now that he was out in the evening fog, sucking gasping lungfuls of crisp winter air, Andy wondered if it would be worse still if they all looked and _saw_ him for what he was now.

Eddie had his hand on Andy's elbow, and Andy didn't know if he'd be standing without it. "Want to go to my hotel?" Eddie asked, voice still painfully sympathetic.

"Your room?" Andy echoed.

The question turned Eddie bashful, like he hadn't been with Andy since the very early days in Melbourne when they were still dancing around each other. He let go of Andy's elbow and took half a step back. "Or I could take you home," he said. "You just say where you want to go, sir."

"No, not home," Andy said. People were looking, and Andy needed to be somewhere else, so he started walking towards the hotel. It wasn't far, just a couple blocks, and it'd be quieter there. Andy walked, and Eddie followed.

"When'd you get back, Skip?" Eddie asked, trying to paper over the whole damn incident. People were very good at pretending Andy's little lapses didn't happen, and he was never sure if he was grateful for it or not. Mostly, not, Andy decided now.

"Uh." Andy counted back. "Three days ago?"

Eddie whistled. "So they had this trap all ready to spring, huh?"

"Yeah," Andy admitted. "I tried telling them, 'no,' then I tried saying I'd only do it if you'd come, too. I didn't know if you would. Hell, Eddie, I didn't even know if you were out of the hospital yet. That telegram to your folks was a hope and a prayer."

"I wrote you," Eddie told him, sounding agitated. "Andy, I wrote you every week. Couldn't do it at first, so I got the nurses to write for me."

Andy remembered seeing Eddie's words written in that strange hand, how chilling it had been to read, like hearing a ventriloquist speak. "I only got the first one," he said. "The rest are probably circling the PTO trying to find me."

"Sounds about right," Eddie said. "I been back about a month, now. Sorry if I busted your plan to dodge out on your own party."

"No, no," Andy said, bumping his shoulder into Eddie's. "It was worth a parade to see you again."

Eddie shoved back lightly, then let his arm fall around Andy's waist and pulled him close against his side in a half embrace without missing a step. He had always had the kind of long-limbed grace that made Andy scrub through his mind for half-remembered scraps of poetry, but Andy had never been able to find the words for what he'd felt for Eddie. What did you say to someone your heart kept beating for? He wished he could sing, or better yet play like Eddie could.

"They didn't put on one of those when I got back to Danville." Eddie didn't sound bitter, just amused, like he always was about the different world Andy inhabited, as if Andy had stepped onto Guadalcanal out of the looking glass. "Postmaster shook my hand though."

"What have you been doing?" Andy asked, then regretted prying, then cursed himself for thinking that Eddie would mind Andy asking him anything in the world. They'd stopped having secrets a long time ago, but it all felt new between them, now that they were back.

Eddie glanced sideways at him. They were still walking in step, but slower now, Eddie's pace having decreased, and Andy matching him unconsciously. "Have my marine pension," he said. "Ain't found work yet. Lotta boys coming back in better shape than me."

As much as Andy wanted to know what kind of shape that was, exactly, he couldn't bring himself to ask that any more than he could ask the most important question. "I don't know what I'm going to do," he said. He'd been offered his old spot as assistant coach back, but he hadn't played more than a pick up game in four years. It wasn't fair to the squad, even without bringing in his injury.

"You'll find something." Eddie spoke with that old unshakable faith that Andy had never quite understood. Too often, back then, Eddie had looked at him and seen something shining and perfect. Andy had wondered if he still would after Andy had sent Eddie into fire that had damn near killed him. He had his answer now.

They were at the hotel—an old two-story thing that had its coach house bricked into a garage—and Eddie led the way through the lobby, letting Andy watch his six for the first time. He didn't like how stiffly Eddie was moving: one leg starting to sweep wide and tucking his arm in to cover his ribs. Like Andy, he'd clearly been holding it together since he'd gotten in that damn car, and just as clearly couldn't any longer. He'd made it longer than Andy had.

The bellhop glanced at them a few times in the elevator before blurting, "That was a very fine speech, Captain Haldane," as he let them out of the elevator.

"Thank you, son," Andy said automatically and tipped the kid a dollar. Eddie raised an eyebrow, and Andy shook his head slightly. It made Eddie smile, whatever was in that look.

Andy followed Eddie into his room and threw the bolt behind them.

"Thank you for all this, by the by," Eddie said, gesturing around at the twin bed and straight-backed wooden chair like it was a suite at the Ritz.

Andy wanted to tell him that he deserved a palace, and getting the city to pay for a train ticket and a decent hotel room could hardly begin to cover what Andy ought to be laying at his feet. He restricted himself to a brief nod and saying, "Too cold to put you up in a pup tent on the lawn."

"That's the truth," Eddie agreed, then lapsed into silence.

They stood there, three yards apart, Eddie backlit by the window, still straight and tall in his dress blues despite his pain, Andy almost with his back to the door, his hands pressed between the wood and the small of his back. He wished he knew what to say now, or that he could just step forward and take a hold of Eddie, but the evening had left him rattled and unsure of himself in a way he never had been in the Marines. There hadn't been time for hesitation there, not even in Melbourne, not when every day could be their last. Now, their whole lives stretched before him, each day bringing a new uncertainty. Andy didn't want to feel that kind of unsteady footing around Eddie, but he couldn't help himself now, it seemed.

"Jesus, Andy," Eddie burst out. "Get over here, will you?"

He held his arms wide, and Andy pitched forward, taking two staggering steps into them. They were of a height, but that didn't stop Andy from burying his face against Eddie's chest and hauling in breath after breath of the scent of damp wool and leather polish, of Eddie's aftershave, of the faint sheen of perspiration. Eddie was crushing his arms around Andy's ribs, almost stopping him from breathing, or maybe that was the lump in Andy's throat that was doing that. He didn't cry, but he couldn't seem to do anything but clutch the shoulders of Eddie's uniform and stand there letting both their bodies sway together like there was a deck moving under them.

Eddie kissed the side of Andy's neck, then just held his lips to it, breathing hard. There was a catch in the way Eddie's breath let out, and Andy held onto his fistfuls of uniform like he would sink without them. Eddie's breath was hot and wet against his neck, as familiar as the beat of Andy's own heart, or more so.

"It's been a long time," Andy finally murmured, voice half buried against the blue wool. "Kept dreaming of you."

"That last night in Melbourne," Eddie agreed. He paused, then said shakily, "When I didn't get a letter back, I didn't know if you still wanted—or if something had happened—" He couldn't finish, but Andy filled in the blanks easily enough. They were the same things he could never seem to stop himself from imagining.

"Just the Corps' son of a bitch mail," he said, and unlike all the times he'd told himself that, he believed it now. He could believe anything with Eddie holding onto him. "And I'll always want you."

"Good," Eddie said, like he was confirming it to himself. "That's good." He drew back, standing straight again, and waited until Andy lifted his head to look at him. Eddie smiled, but his eyes gleamed with tears.

Andy rested his forehead against Eddie's and blinked hard. Standing here, he could almost imagine that they were back in Australia, that Gloucester and Peleliu hadn't happened yet, maybe never would. That Andy had just gotten his own company and his best friend a promotion in one swoop, that their love was new, and the whole world seemed possible, even after the horrors on the Canal.

"Jesus, I want to kiss you," Eddie whispered now, as awestruck by that fact here in Methuen as he had been in Melbourne.

"So kiss me," Andy told him. He tilted his head and parted his lips, waiting with eyes closed like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Eddie, when their lips touched, moved cautiously enough that Andy would have mistaken it for hesitation, save that Eddie's hands were running up and down his back. Eddie's lips brushed his—soft, careful, not sun-chapped and desperate—and Andy sighed against them. His heart clenched, and he felt something let go inside him, like a rope had slipped, and he was no longer dragging an impossible load. Andy's mouth was already open, waiting for Eddie to deepen the kiss, and he didn't stay cautious for long. Soon his tongue was touching Andy's lower lip, and he was sucking lightly as his hands moved up to Andy's hair.

Andy kept his eyes closed and focused on the way every time Eddie's mouth moved against his, Andy's whole body lit with pleasure. It felt like so long since he'd anything good, or not just good, but good that he felt like was his, or was meant for him. Everyone had been so kind to him since he'd gotten back, but Andy wasn't ever sure if that was for him, for the football captain of years past, or for Captain Haldane and his Silver Star—the star that rattled and scraped against Eddie's Sam Browne as they leaned against each other. Andy would have taken it off and pinned it to Eddie, if Eddie would have taken it.

It was Eddie who finally broke the kiss. Andy would have kept at it forever, if he'd been allowed.

"Guess we better close these," Eddie said. He turned on the lamp and pulled the inner curtains closed, then started unbuckling his belts.

"Yeah," Andy agreed. He unhooked his sword and leaned it against the wall before taking off his Sam Browne and starting on the buttons of his coat. He both wanted to stand and watch Eddie reveal his body bit by bit and have their naked skin against each other already. He tried to tell himself that they had the rest of their lives to do both, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this first time on home soil had an immense meaning under the surface of every movement.

Eddie folded his jacket over a chair, unclipped his cufflinks and hesitated. He started to tug his scarf free, then glanced up at Andy, and asked, "You want me to leave my shirt on?"

"No," Andy told him automatically. Though in truth he was afraid of what he'd see. They'd both had scars after the Canal and more after New Britain, but nothing like the ruin Eddie's chest and side had been last time Andy had seen it. He was afraid he'd look at it, and not be able to see Eddie for the remembered images of blood, the first terrifying moments where he'd thought the love of his life had died under Andy's command. Andy slid his own jacket off and laid it over top of Eddie's.

He knew that he should say something comforting about how it didn't matter what Eddie looked like, and he didn't care, and it probably wasn't that bad, or make a joke about how if Eddie showed him his, but words failed Andy, as they had been so often over the last few months. All he could do was step forward and place his hands over Eddie's, which had stalled stupidly at his throat as he stood still as a statue, waiting for Andy's command.

Andy squeezed both of Eddie's hands and pulled them away from his scarf before pulling the knot undone himself. He deliberately set it aside, and started on Eddie's top button. It was the little one right at his throat, and Eddie lifted his chin to give Andy more room. His throat vibrated against Andy's fingers as he said, "I can leave it on, Skip. It's... I won't mind."

"It won't work if we start like that," Andy said. He couldn't take away his trepidation, but he could face it, like he'd done his best to face every other blasted outcome of this war, until they'd stopped letting him. He got the dress shirt unbuttoned, and pushed it and Eddie's suspenders off his shoulders in one go so that they both hung off his hips. Andy paused with his fingers at the hem of Eddie's undershirt. He tugged at the thin wool, but didn't quite have the guts to lift it up.

Eddie let out a sharp breath, like he was about to take a run at something, then grabbed two handfuls of the undershirt and lifted his arms over his head. It meant his face was hidden from Andy—and, more importantly, Eddie didn't have to see Andy's reaction—as he bared his torso.

He hadn't meant to, but Andy couldn't help wincing at the expanse of twisted skin and surgical scars. The docs must have opened up half of Eddie's side and more than once at that. It hardly looked like skin at all any more. Andy had used to rest his head just there, and now...

Andy had been too slow trying to get his emotions under control. Eddie had let the shirt fall to the floor and was watching Andy with the expression of Cassandra as the walls of Troy tumbled down around her. Andy couldn't stand to see him looking like that, not because of something Andy had done to him, not ever.

They were so close already, it wasn't any effort to lean in a little and kiss Eddie. It was a quick, fierce thing, and then Andy pulled away and said, "I love you," with every ounce of sincerity he had in him, and repeated, "and I'll always want you."

Eddie swallowed hard, blinked a couple of times, then nodded. "Okay," he said, his voice rough.

"Okay," Andy agreed. He tugged at his own buttons impatiently. It would be easier if he could just tear the thing open, but then his sister would ask about the buttons when she ironed it. He lifted more carefully over his head, taking his own undershirt with it in one bundle. He was painfully conscious that most of his visible wounds had long since faded. Even the head shot was just a fading pink line, misreporting the damage it had done. Andy still had the fullback's body he'd built in college, leaned a little by the war, but broad shouldered and narrow waisted, skin smooth save for the light lines of that scar on his arm. He saw Eddie's eyes drift down his chest, and wished for a hundred things, mostly the ability to make Eddie whole, even if he would have to carve the damage out of his own skin.

"Lord," Eddie whispered, and pressed his hand over Andy's heart, "You've no notion how hard I prayed for this, Andy."

Andy would have made some joke of it, if he could, if this had been before. Instead, he said, "I've some."

"All I ever wanted in the whole world was you back here in one piece, or near as, and to be able to..." He looked up at Andy and flashed that fey smile of his, the one that flickered across his face and meant one of a hundred things. "Aw, hell. I don't know how to say this."

Eddie tugged Andy close again, and Andy let him. Their chests pressed together, and Andy could feel the twists and ridges of Eddie's scars against his skin, but that got lost in the kissing pretty fast. He'd get used to them, he knew he would. In a few weeks, they'd just be a part of Eddie, nothing worth even noting, not when he'd be able to feel Eddie's lips against his any time he'd like. They'd promised each other that, even if they'd left the details a little vague.

Andy felt horribly, traitorously glad that Eddie hadn't asked how bad that head shot had been, while at the same time his lie of omission pulled at his conscience. A snake of guilt coiled up inside him gorging on the truth he left out, and on the knowledge that Eddie would forever remember how Andy had failed to stand by him in that first moment of seeing his naked chest.

 _Damn, damn, damn_ , Andy thought, and tried to turn his brain off and pour himself into kissing Eddie. Both of their prayers had been answered, the details could hardly matter. He pulled Eddie's shirt free and started to unbutton his fly, distracted by the feel of Eddie's hands running up and down his back. He was moaning against Andy's mouth, like just getting to touch freely was everything he'd ever wanted, like a little necking was the purest ecstasy.

Needing to make Eddie feel good, to wipe all the wrong out of his mind, Andy slithered out of Eddie's hold and dropped to his knees.

Laughing, Eddie pushed Andy's head back and stepped back towards the bed. "I ain't objecting, but these old legs won't hold up to that no more."

"You're twenty-seven, same as me," Andy told him, he crawled across the floor until he was between Eddie's spread legs.

"Old as Methuselah," Eddie insisted. He ran his hands through Andy's hair and pulled his head down against the front of his trousers. "See, now, this is just right."

Andy wanted Eddie's cock in his mouth more than he wanted to answer back, so he undid the last button and pulled Eddie's skivvies down enough to get his dick out. Eddie wasn't hard yet, and Andy almost missed the old days of frantic necking, coming hard and fast with no idea of when their next chance might be. Eddie had always been ready the second Andy laid a hand on him, certainly by the time Andy was on his knees. Maybe they really were getting on.

"How long you think old legs like mine could kneel here, just holding your dick in my mouth?" Andy asked. Eddie's dick twitched in Andy's hand.

"No so long, if you keep talking like that," Eddie told him. He ran his fingers through Andy's hair. he'd always loved playing with it, hated when Andy got it buzz cut—until Andy showed him what the soft bristles felt like against his cock. Andy looked up and their eyes met, Eddie seeming to remember that time too. He flushed slightly, like anything between them could bring them shame. Eddie stopped playing with Andy's hair and cupped his cheeks between both hands. He looked down at Andy for a long moment, seeming to search for something, but if he found it, Andy couldn't tell. Eddie patted Andy's cheeks and pulled his head down again.

This time Eddie's cock was hard enough for Andy to lick it from root to head. He made it sloppy, dragging the centre of his tongue up the side, leaving a trail of spit behind. Andy rolled his tongue into a point and flicked it over the tip of Eddie's dick, before tracing a circle around the head. The Corps had done a rough job when they'd circumscribed a lot of the new marines, and there were still a few rough edges of Eddie's foreskin. He still made that soft whimper when Andy rolled his tongue over them. If Andy were to brush the edge of his teeth in the same place, he knew Eddie would probably scream, and then come hard, no matter how far along he was.

Eddie's hands clenched Andy's hair, pulling hard enough to make his eyes sting, but Andy didn't mind. How badly Eddie wanted him had never done anything besides turn Andy on. He let himself be yanked down as Eddie thrust up into his mouth. Andy had to swallow fast and hard as Eddie rocked into this throat. It'd been a long time since they'd had the luxury of privacy to do this, but Andy remembered what Eddie had taught him about swallowing a man down, and was able to angle his neck right and take Eddie until Andy's nose pressed against his stomach.

Andy wanted to hold there for a long time, working this throat around Eddie's dick until he came just from the feel of Andy around him, but holding his breath hadn't been so good lately, and Andy didn't want to mess this up. He jerked his head back away, and Eddie dropped his hips back onto the bed, letting his cock slide about halfway out of Andy's mouth. Andy had enough time for a couple steady breaths, and distracted Eddie by rolling his tongue along his dick.

"Dreamed about this so much there was times I thought I'd plain made you up," Eddie told him. His grip on Andy's hair hadn't loosened, like he was holding onto Andy so he wouldn't be able to vanish. "I'd think, 'naw, nothing like that coulda happened to a guy like me; must've been a fever dream.'"

Eddie thrust up again, almost viciously, and proved in his own way that Andy was really there. Probably better than whatever platitudes Andy could have come up with anyway. Eddie didn't linger this time, but dropped back and thrust again. It was slow enough for Andy to be able to breathe, but only just. Andy clutched at Eddie's thighs for balance and rode with it as best he could. He'd gotten rusty, but Eddie didn't seem to mind. Eddie just kept chasing his pleasure, and letting Andy help him do that. Eddie kept holding onto Andy, and even though he'd never been able to talk once he got into the serious work of fucking Andy; a jumble of praise and profanity fell from his mouth.

Andy had no idea why it was easier to believe something like, _Jesus, fuck, your mouth, God, just so good,_ than the mayor giving him the keys to the city, or a general pinning a medal to his jacket. Maybe it was that Eddie had never done anything but tell Andy the truth and do his best to love him. Maybe it was just pure repetition.

Though he'd started with some notion of drawing things out now that they had the time, Andy could tell this wasn't going to last long. Eddie kept thrusting into Andy's mouth, but he was breathing harder now, and more grunts of pleasure than even broken words escaped his lips. Andy could feel Eddie's thighs tensing under his hands and sucked harder, his tongue working over Eddie's cock as he pulled out. He felt himself fill with pride knowing that no matter what happened, Andy could still make Eddie whimper like that, could still break that perfect marine professionalism with just his lips. Andy could make Eddie need him in a way that Eddie had never seemed to need anything before he'd let Andy touch him.

Andy let his teeth scrape up the top of Eddie's cock, felt Eddie's hands fly away from his hair so he could cover his own mouth and stifle a scream, rode with Eddie's hips as they snapped up, swallowed Eddie's come as it filled his mouth. Being careful of his teeth, Andy sucked Eddy down again, so that his cock filled Andy's mouth even as it softened. Eddie was whimpering against his hands, and rolling his hips. Thick come filled Andy's mouth even as he swallowed it down. Andy hummed softly, tunelessly, wishing for Eddie's voice.

Finally, Eddie twined his hands in Andy's hair again, threading it through his fingers. "You letting this grow?" he asked.

Andy rocked back and let Eddie's dick slide out of his mouth He had come on the corners of his mouth and some smeared on his cheek, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand before saying, "I don't know. Do you want me to?"

When Eddie didn't answer, Andy looked up at him and found that he was looking at the wall behind Andy, blinking hard. Andy had no idea what he'd done, but he couldn't stand that something he'd said had made Eddie sad, so he launched himself upwards and drove Eddie back into the bed. They'd used to rough house, struggling on the floor like puppies, and true to form Eddie twisted away from under Andy, and, moving like an eel, pinned him flat on his stomach with his arm up behind his back.

"Lemme up!" Andy protested as Eddie laughed at him. His voice still sounded rough, but he wasn't near to tears any more. Eddie flipped Andy onto his back and attacked his fly, jerking his shoes, pants and underwear off in a few moves. Andy stopped struggling and let him, watching Eddie's strong shoulders bunch and pull. His eyes still kept sliding past Eddie's scars, not ready to take them in yet, but he knew he'd get used to them. It would just take time, and for the first time in their lives time was on their side.

Eddie kicked his own trousers off and flopped down on top of Andy so they were lying chest to chest, the whole length of their naked bodies touching. Andy could hardly believe it was real. He ran his hands down Eddie's back, where the skin was still smooth save for the one round place where a bullet had left his body. How Eddie was alive felt like a pure miracle to Andy, one he planned not to let pass him by. He let his finger trace the circumference of the exit wound, then carried on down towards Eddie's ass. They'd both lost weight on Peleliu, but Eddie hadn't gained it back. Andy could feel the knobs of his spine sharp under his fingers, and realised that the leanness he'd admired earlier was the result of too many months in the hospital.

"I know I ain't much, any more," Eddie said, able to read Andy's thoughts as always.

"Then I'm going to take you home and feed you until you are," Andy told him. He squeezed Eddie's ass, which wasn't any less scrawny than the rest of him.

Eddie smiled indulgently and kissed Andy, likely to shut him up, but Andy couldn't say he minded. He was hard but not urgently so, and wanted to be able to lie together and touch for a while. Eddie's cock brushed against his, still slick from Andy's spit, and Andy regretted sucking him off when they could have lain like this and rubbed against each other. He wanted so many things, everything he'd imagined these last months, since Melbourne when they'd had to stop, that Andy couldn't decide which to do. He felt like a kid in a candy store who'd just been given a silver dollar.

Only he'd stolen it, and he'd be found out soon enough.

Well, Andy was going to get what he could while he could. He ran his hands back up Eddie's back, tracing lightly with his nails, making Eddie moan against his mouth. Andy kept doing it, wanting to please Eddie. He cupped his hands around Eddie's ass and trailed his fingers between his cheeks. When Andy touched his hole, Eddie whimpered and clutched Andy's hair again.

"You want me?" Andy asked. His fingers were dry, but he pushed at Eddie's hole, toying with the rim.

"Always," Eddie answered, and Andy hoped that turned out to be true.

"You got any stuff?"

Eddie laughed, and repeated, "Always."

Andy grinned up at him. "That's my XO."

"Couldn't let you down, Skip," Eddie told him, with more sincerity than Andy had meant to invoke. "I gotta say I'm glad I didn't bring it up here for nothing. I wasn't sure if..."

Andy kissed him and tried to think of how to answer that in a way Eddie would believe. Of course, they both knew that the end of the war for them meant that promises made in the jungles of the South Pacific would look different, but Andy wouldn't take a word of it back if someone put a gun to his head. He said as much, which made Eddie laugh again.

"Don't need to go so far as that for little old me," he said.

"I sure do," Andy told him. "Now, where's that slick?"

Eddie anchored himself with one arm around Andy's waist and leaned off the edge of the bed, his long arm stretching out for the edge of his suitcase. He'd replaced his sea bag, Andy saw, and looked for Eddie's ubiquitous guitar, but couldn't find it. Another loss. Eddie's arm like a steel band around Andy's ribs made that easy to forget though. His hands were as strong as they'd always been, but Andy embraced Eddie's chest just to make sure he didn't slip away. He could hardly feel the scarred skin as Eddie's chest pressed against his. He could definitely feel the way Eddie's thighs slipped and wiggled against his cock. Andy rocked his hips up, and Eddie just about lost his balance.

"Warn a fellow," Eddie protested, but rolled back against the wall with a tin of Vaseline in his hand. It was an old standby, though Andy liked oil better. "How do you want me?"

Andy almost said any way he could get him, but at the last moment decided there was too much truth and desperation in that. Instead, he said, "Swap with me, huh?"

"All right." Eddie lifted himself up and half crawled and half rolled over Andy, who shuffled the other way and put his back to the wall. "You need to get one of those giant mattresses they have nowadays," Eddie grumbled, but the curled his legs up and slotted himself into the curve of Andy's body just the same, his ass resting against Andy's cock.

Even that light pressure was nearly enough to drive Andy out of his mind. He thought about the fussy process of getting Eddie ready and taking him, and didn't think he could wait. But wouldn't Eddie expect that, after so long? He'd always loved being screwed, and Andy didn't want to disappoint him. Honestly, Andy didn't want to disappoint himself. He'd pictured this first time back together for so long.

Andy dropped his head to the back of Eddie's shoulders and snugged their bodies tight together. His head still ached, and he didn't feel like he could make choices right now. "Eddie?" He asked, voice soft and plaintive.

Eddie took Andy's hand in his and pulled it up to his lips to kiss. "Yeah?"

"I'm still not..." Andy trailed off, not able to put his need into words. He wished he could be brave enough to admit the whole thing to Eddie: how much his head hurt, the way he couldn't remember sometimes, and was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to look after them like Andy had promised himself he would. Andy had planned to say all that first, and let Eddie decided based on that if he still wanted Andy or not. He hadn't meant to fall into bed with Eddie before he said anything at all.

"Hey now," Eddie said softly, trying to feel out Andy's distress in the dark. "Hey, now, easy there. I won't take it to heart if you're not up for it just now. It's been a long day for you." He sucked lightly at Andy's fingers, rolling his tongue over the pads. When he pulled Andy's hand away, Eddie wiggled his ass against Andy's cock. "What about just my thighs?"

"Thank you," Andy murmured against Eddie's shoulder. He kept his eyes closed but flipped the lid off the tin and covered his dick with a thick coat of Vaseline. It was a small release in itself to stroke his own cock. He hadn't really touched himself since he'd gotten back—caught between the awkwardness of living with his parents, and wanting to wait for Eddie, even though Andy had no idea if they'd ever see each other again, and not believing that he deserved to feel pleasure when he'd abandoned all his boys to face the next battle without him.

Andy still didn't know what, if anything, he deserved, but he knew that Eddie should have a lover who showed him that he was perfect and desirable. Andy kissed Eddie's shoulder and slid his slicked hand between Eddie's thighs, spreading the last of the Vaseline there. Eddie lifted his leg a little to let Andy slide his dick between them, before clamping down. He didn't really have enough meat on his thighs for this, but Andy still rocked his body forward to sink into the slick warmth. The head of Andy's cock brushed Eddie's balls, and Andy pulled his hand away from Eddie's so that he could run it over Eddie's body. He found the scar tissue tangled across Eddie's chest and stroked it, trying to get used to the feel.

Eddie made a soft, strangled sound and tried to pull away. It didn't seem like he was ready for that either. Andy settled his hand on Eddie's hip instead. He rested it there lightly and started to rock their bodies together. He wasn't really thrusting between Eddie's thighs so much as rolling forward so that Eddie's body shifted against his. They should have found their way under the covers, as the room was chill, but Eddie was hot in Andy's arms, and he kept his thighs clenched tight around Andy's dick.

If he'd been more of a talker during sex, like Eddie was, Andy would have said how much he liked how this felt, how much he enjoyed touching Eddie again after all this time, how good at this Eddie was, too good for Andy, how lucky Andy was to have him still. It was strange how he could summon an unfailing well of kindness and assurance for his boys, but never work out the right thing to say at times like these, times when it mattered most to Andy.

"Christ, it's good to feel you again," Eddie told him. He'd put his hand over Andy's on his hip, keeping it from wandering up to forbidden territory again. His other hand reached back until he rested it on Andy's flank, needing the contact more than anything. Andy kept his face against Eddie's back, kissing the sweat off his shoulders. "Used to think about just lying in your arms all day. Guess we'll be able to do that, now, if we like?"

Eddie sounded like he thought there was a question in that. Andy tightened his hold on Eddie's hip and rocked forward harder, his dick sliding against Eddie's slicked skin. Andy could feel the heat rising in him, the way his skin was tingling with anticipation. He wanted to feel more than Eddie's thighs around his, the wiry hairs on his legs, the curve of his ass against Andy's stomach, how smooth his back still was. Andy wanted to touch, to pull Eddie in until they were as tight together as one person. He shifted and rocked forward, and pulled his hand out from under Eddie's as he did and stroked it over his stomach. His skin was mostly undamaged there, and Andy kept to his left side anyway. He kissed the back of Eddie's neck and buried his nose in those brown curls as they sprang free of the pomade. Some Marine Corps nurse had tried to cut them short, but it hadn't tamed them.

"That's right, there you go," Eddie said, speaking for them both, "you just take what you need. Jesus, the feel of you, the sounds you make when you take me... You keep touching me like... ugh." Andy stopped Eddie's chatter by giving him his fingers to suck, and Eddie pulled them into his mouth enthusiastically.

"Eddie," Andy murmured against his back. He hoped it was enough. Eddie had always seemed to understand. Andy's heart was picking up as he rocked faster against Eddie's body, and that made his head ache a little, but he ignored that and kept moving. There was nothing better than having Eddie willing and in his arms. it had been such a very long time, and even if Eddie...

Well, at least they'd have this time. Eddie would know that Andy wanted him, couldn't keep his hands off of him, even when his head ached and he felt dead tired. Andy leaned forward and nipped at Eddie's earlobe, but missed as Eddie turned his head to look back at him or something. Andy ended up running his nose into Eddie's cheek with some force. He laughed and tried again, kissing the corner of Eddie's mouth. Eddie grinned back at him, mouth curling around Andy's fingers. He made a show of bobbing his head back and forth against them, slurping and sucking like he had Andy's cock in his mouth. It almost felt like he did. The motion seemed to go right to Andy's dick, and he rolled forward until he was half on top of Eddie and could thrust properly. He braced one hand on the mattress but kept the other in Eddie's mouth and rose and fell above Eddie, fucking his thighs as he kissed his back and wished for words to tell Eddie how much this meant to him.

Andy was panting too hard anyway. Even light exertion like this had him dragging in great ragged gasps like he'd been running drills all afternoon. He gasped open mouthed against Eddie's back and tried to listen to any sound of pleasure or distress Eddie might be making. Eddie was moaning against Andy's fingers loud enough for Andy to feel the vibrations more than he heard the sound.

He felt the need to push forward and find completion filling him, like a need to run forward into fire. Andy shifted, trying to brace his legs better so he could take Eddie as hard and fast as he wanted. Eddie was still clamping down against Andy's cock, his legs flexed and tense so that Andy was pushing past bands of taut muscle and the edge of bone. Andy gritted his teeth at the pleasure and tried to hold on against how good it all felt. He wanted to do more than just a quick fuck, but it had been so long since he'd touched Eddie, so long since he'd seen him at all. Andy felt his balls tighten and the pleasure seem to centre in his gut.

"God, Eddie," he moaned, and had to pull his hand out of Eddie's mouth so that he could grip his shoulder hard enough to bruise that last time he snapped his hips forward. Andy saw white, and his head rang with a mix of pain and perfect relief.

Eddie was saying something, and Andy let the sound of this voice flow over him like cool water, even if the words weren't quite fitting together in his head. Andy let go of Eddie's shoulder and wrapped his arm around his chest again, and Eddie held on to that, stroking Andy's arm. Eddie twisted his head around, and Andy leaned in to kiss the side of his face. He wanted to kiss lips to lips, but would have to move, and moving didn't seem like something he had in his plans for the future.

"Eddie," he said again, and again all the rest of the words jammed up inside his throat.

"I'm here, Skip," Eddie said. He dropped his head back to the pillow and snuggled back against Andy's body, rolling them both back onto their sides. "Missed you," he said, and the simplicity of the statement was almost enough to make Andy weep.

"Yeah?" Andy asked, knowing he was fishing but not really caring.

Eddie closed his hand around Andy's wrist and gripped it tight. "There wasn't a minute of the day I didn't think of you," he said, "and every time I thought of you, I wished for the time we'd be together again, like we said."

Andy kissed Eddie's shoulder again. "Me too," he said, glad Eddie had put words to it. "I... when we were back on Pavuvu, I was so fucking glad you were out of it before the next one, but I needed you there." He'd spent those last few months slowly spinning apart until the colonel realised Andy was never going to be fit for combat, and got Andy a medical discharge. "I couldn't do it without you."

"Sure you could," Eddie soothed, but Andy shook his head against his back.

Their sweaty bodies were cooling, and Andy had made a mess of the bedspread. He told himself he should get up, but he didn't want to let go of Eddie, not when part of him was sure this would be the last time. Andy screwed down his courage and finally admitted. "It's been worse since I got back. You're the only thing that feels real any more."

"Jesus, Andy," Eddie said, but then fell silent. He lay still in Andy's arms, holding onto his wrist still but not moving. Andy could almost hear him working through all the things Andy had just admitted, and putting together all the bits and pieces he hadn't had the guts to say as well. He'd always been too smart, no matter what his nickname had been. Andy could feel his body tensing, and his heart start to pound again as the fear of what Eddie would say built in him.

Finally, Eddie sighed and rolled forward out of Andy's arms and onto his feet beside the bed. He paused to clean up the bedding before lifting it and yanking the blankets out from under Andy, tumbling him into the wall. The bare sheets were cool under him, and the wafting blanket seemed to fan away any heat left in the room. Andy shivered and curled around himself. He looked up at Eddie's naked body and this time didn't flinch at the ugliness scraped across Eddie's chest. Andy would take any amount of damage if only Eddie would stay.

He did. Eddie pulled back the covers enough to crawl back into bed, this time facing Andy, though there was hardly enough room for both of them. Their knees touched and Eddie pressed his hand over Andy's heart again. He stroke Andy's cheek with this other hand, and looked seriously into his eyes. "I guess that pretty head of yours is in bad shape, huh?"

"Yeah," Andy admitted, so softly it was more a breath than a word. "It's... it's gotten better, a little."

"Okay," Eddie said. He tipped his head until his forehead rested against Andy's. His skin was sticky with perspiration, but his hands were strong and warm. The space between them was filling with the heat of Eddie's body. "In case you've been fretting, I plan to stick by you, so long as you'll have me."

"Of course I will," Andy said, and he parted his lips to add some kind of disclaimer, an option to leave if Eddie wanted one, a dispensation of promises made half a world away. Then he came to his senses and shut up.

"The way I see it," Eddie told him, "I'm in this good: for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, understand?"

Andy closed his eyes and nodded, then opened them again because of all the days he'd dreamed of being able to gaze into Eddie's eyes. "I do," he said, though his throat was almost too tight to speak.

"Okay," Eddie said and wrapped his arms around Andy so that when Eddie rolled onto his back, Andy fell forward to rest his head on Eddie's chest. Andy could hear Eddie's heart beating a little too fast, and knew that he'd had just as bad a case of nerves as Andy had.

Andy laughed, his breath puffing across Eddie's chest. Andy's heart still ached for how much the war had hurt Eddie, but that too would pass, someday. "We're too old to be this stupid," he said.

Eddie chuckled and kissed Andy's hair. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Beneath Andy's ear, Eddie's heartbeat was slowing down, and the warmth building between their bodies was going to lull Andy to sleep pretty soon. "Think we should go back to the party?" he asked.

"Nope," Eddie answered, then sighed, "Guess they'll expect you to turn up some time or other."

"Yeah," Andy agreed. He was warm with his lover's arms around him, body still slow and sated. He knew he'd have to go home eventually—this wasn't the time to worry his family—but surely he could have a few hours just for Eddie. "Some time or other."

Eddie kissed his hair and started to hum "Red River Valley," which was too sad for Andy's taste, but he wouldn't stop Eddie for all the world.

"What happened to your guitar?" Andy asked after the first few repetitions of the chorus.

"Don't know," Eddie admitted. "Got lost somewhere along the way."

"We'll have to get a new one," Andy said, drowsy against Eddie's chest but mind happily planning for a future together now that he thought they might have one. "And one of those big beds."

"And if wishes were horses," Eddie said fondly.

"And a horse too," Andy promised, "If you want one."

"Only want you." Eddie stroked down the length of Andy's spine, and Andy felt sleep pulling him under, but he stayed awake long enough to hear Eddie say, "But a guitar would be okay, too."

A jolt of panic kept Andy from drifting off. He splayed his palm out across Eddie's good side, fingers curling away, and tapped sharply. "Eddie. Don't let me forget," he insisted.

"I won't, Skip," Eddie said, pulling Andy tight against his chest until he settled. "You know you can count on me."


End file.
